


Amnesty Angst Triangle

by Anbessette



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, australian attempts to write west virginia dialogue, set during/immediately after arc 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22724242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anbessette/pseuds/Anbessette
Summary: Three simultaneous "my friend got hurt because of me and it's bringing up a lot of unresolved issues" freakouts after the incident with the Pizza Hut sign.Two concurrent freakouts over Boyd's return and Minerva's departure.One shared freakout over what Ned's being blackmailed to do.***Three times the Pine Guard talked (and hugged) about their problems instead of suffering through the emotional fallout alone.
Relationships: Edmund "Ned" Chicane & Aubrey Little & Duck Newton, Edmund "Ned" Chicane/Duck Newton
Comments: 11
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely set in the same universe as my previous Duck/Ned fic _Something to Keep_ but can pretty much stand alone, just know that Duck and Ned have been together since the end of Arc 1.

Ned had, in his opinion, done a good job of pretending not to have overheard anything Aubrey had said to Mama. This had initially been very easy, as he genuinely was drifting in and out of consciousness while the two of them talked, and once he was alert and lucid again he gave a truly Oscar-worthy performance as a man who had not recently experienced any horrible, life-shattering revelations. But once he was finally back home, alone and unwitnessed, the mask of normalcy fell apart as he sank down onto his couch, burying his face in his trembling hands.

In his life before Kepler, Ned had considered himself something of a Robin Hood figure without the aspect of giving to the poor. And all right, perhaps one (such as the inner voice that tended to speak in the forthright tones of Duck Newton) could argue that this was the central tenet of the Robin Hood mythos, but nonetheless. Stealing from the rich was a challenge, a game, a battle of wits for fabulous prizes. Right up until it wasn’t.

Aubrey had never been a player in that game. She and her family simply had the misfortune of owning things that Boyd Mosche coveted, and Ned had been too weak, too greedy, too cowardly to say no to his whispered promises of untold treasure.

That awful night had lurked painfully at the back of Ned’s mind for going on a decade, and he had done his very best to bury the memory. He left his former life behind him, stuck to the straight and narrow (or close enough), and when he thought of the old days, he thought of the thrill of the chase, the magpie joy of building his collection, and spun those parts into stories to amuse and delight. He was regretting every one of those stories now, after he had been so forcibly reminded of how they truly ended, with Aubrey’s home ablaze and her mother dead.

_Aubrey’s_ home. _Aubrey’s_ family. That frightened girl running down the stairs and the remarkable, vivacious young woman he was honoured to count as one of his dearest friends were one and the same.

Until today, Ned had never known how the fire began. When he thought about it, which he tried not to, he assumed Mosche had caused it, either through carelessness or in an attempt to cover their tracks. The truth Aubrey had confided in Mama, that the fire had come from her and her as yet unknown magical powers, was so much worse. Ned knew something of how Aubrey’s magic worked, how connected it was to her emotional state. To have set off an inferno like the one he had fled from while she was _unconscious_ … God. She must have been so scared. Of _him_.

Ned’s breath was tearing out of him in rapid, hitching sobs by this point, and he was so caught up in his reflections that he only became aware he was no longer alone when a pair of warm hands grasped his own and drew them away from his face. Somewhere far away, Duck’s voice was urging him to breathe deep, in the nose and out the mouth, like that, and Ned did his best to comply.

Some indeterminate time later, Ned’s breathing had settled to the extent that he no longer needed coaching, and Duck was saying something else. It was, Ned realised incredulously, “I’m sorry.”

“What the living fuck are you apologising for?”

“I should’ve realised what a stupid plan it was. I was thinking about what I’d do if I wasn’t stuck in the store, and I could’ve walked it off. That doesn’t exactly make it better, though.”

“This is about that thing with the sign and the jetpack?”

It made sense that that was where Duck’s mind would go when he came across Ned crying in the dark. Ned had been so focused on the conversation he’d overheard in that hospital bed that the reason he’d been there in the first place had slipped right out of his mind.

Duck squeezed his hands tighter, and it occurred to Ned that he was not the only person here having something of an emotional crisis.

“I forgot that – that normal bodies don’t work like mine, and I’d’ve just been a little sore but you ended up in the fucking hospital and – I’m so sorry.”

“Duck, no. Don’t be. What’s that saying, if it’s stupid but it works, it ain’t stupid? Maybe it wasn’t the sanest plan we’ve ever had, but we didn’t have an abundance of options or any time to waste looking for something better. The sign was coming down no matter what, you and Leo were in there, and my stunt with the jetpack let you both walk out.”

“I didn’t even realise how dangerous it was until I saw you lying there. I wouldn’t have asked you to do that if I’d known.”

“ _I_ knew though. I get why you didn’t, and I don’t blame you, but it was actually pretty damn obvious to me that crashing a jetpack into a giant metal sign was gonna hurt. And also that however tough you are, a building coming down on top of your head would be, y’know, _bad_. I have no regrets about anything I did today. Knowing everything I know now, I’d do it again.”

Even though if he hadn’t been lying half-conscious in that bed, he could have continued in blissful ignorance of exactly what happened on the worst night of his life. The knowledge he was going to have to live with from now on was a price worth paying for Duck’s safety.

“OK. OK.” Duck exhaled slowly. After a beat, he met Ned’s eyes again. “So if it’s not that, then what were you so upset about?”

Well, _shit_. Ned had been too busy assuring Duck that he wasn’t at fault to even think about how else he was supposed to explain the state he was in. Maybe he should have gone along with it when an eminently plausible excuse was offered up on a silver platter … but no. Remembering the distraught look on Duck’s face as he stammered out his apology, Ned knew that had never been an option.

“I could make something up,” Ned said finally, after a long pause. “If I did it right, maybe you’d even believe me.” Or maybe not – Duck was pretty good at seeing through bullshit in general and Ned’s bullshit in particular – but that wasn’t the point. “I don’t want to lie to you, though.”

“OK,” Duck said cautiously. His brow furrowed adorably in confusion. “I, uh … also don’t want that?”

“But – and believe me, I know this says something less than stellar about my priorities – even more than that, I don’t want to tell you the truth. Because the truth is awful, it would make you hate me, Duck, and I really need you to …” _Love me._ But no. He couldn’t bring that word into their relationship for the first time _now,_ not like this. “… _not_ hate me.”

“I do,” Duck said softly. “I mean, I don’t. Don’t hate you. And I trust you. If this was, like, Pine Guard business, shit we needed to know, I know you wouldn’t keep that from us.” Duck was very much overestimating him there, but Ned couldn’t bring himself to correct him. “So, OK. I’m a fucking black-belt in not questioning shit, might as well put twenty odd years of practice to use. You don’t have to tell me.”

Ned waited for long, agonising moments for the catch. ‘You don’t have to tell me now, but we’re gonna talk about this after we defeat the bom-bom’? ‘You don’t have to tell me, but if you cared about me, you would’? ‘You don’t have to tell me, and I don’t have to put up with this kind of cryptic bullshit, so decide what’s more important to you’?

But Duck’s face showed nothing other than kindness and concern.

“And … you don’t have to pretend you’re OK, even if you don’t explain.”

That was the final straw. With a highly embarrassing whimper, Ned fell forward and planted his face in the crook of Duck’s neck. Duck caught him easily, effortlessly, enfolded him in his arms and didn’t even react to the hot tears of shame trickling into his collar. Duck was solid, steady and the perfect shape to cling to; his embrace was the safest place in the world to fall apart; and Ned absolutely did not deserve him.

He knew he ought to tell them. It may not be related to their work in the Pine Guard, and he could argue that they didn’t _need_ to know, but they certainly deserved to. Aubrey deserved to know the truth about what had happened to her and her family that night. Duck deserved to know what kind of man he was really in bed with; anyone decent would surely count the things Ned had done as dealbreakers, and Duck was the best person he’d ever known.

But Duck had offered him amnesty, and Ned took it, because he still wasn’t strong enough to turn down something so precious.

Eventually, after Ned had cried on his boyfriend enough for the time being, they’d eaten the dinner Duck had brought (apparently he’d told Ned that was where he was going and that he’d be back soon? maybe his excellent ‘I am fine’ acting had diverted some energy from his listening abilities), and sketched out a plan for the rest of the evening (“doctor said to keep an eye on you at least six hours before going to sleep, there’s … four hours to go, so I guess we pick out a couple of movies?”), there was a knock at the door. By the time Duck was halfway across the room, the knocking had segued into a percussive rendition of the intro music to Saturday Night Dead, which narrowed down the list of potential guests considerably.

“Hey, Aubrey,” Duck said, as expected. Then his shoulders visibly tensed and his hand drifted toward his belt. “What happened?”

“Nothing! Nothing new, I mean. No bom-bom action, no bad luck, no mysterious phone calls, it’s all good, no swords necessary.”

As Duck stepped aside to wave her in, Ned could see why he’d been concerned. Aubrey was practically vibrating out of her skin with nervous energy, and not in the way she did when she was happy.

“Sorry. It’s stupid. I just keep thinking about what happened before, and how I thought you were dead, and … I wanted to see you. Being alive. So my brain would shut up about it.”

She fidgeted with the straps of her backpack while she talked, and Ned was suddenly struck by how _young_ she looked right now. How young had she been ten years ago? Was she a _child_ when he ruined her life?

“… and now I have, so, mission accomplished! Thanks. I can leave you alone now.”

“Wait, Aubrey, you don’t have to do that. You’re here now, you might as well stay a while longer.” He looked over at Ned. “Right?”

Ned forced a smile. _Acting._ “Certainly! Stay and watch a movie, you can help me decide if it’d be a good fit for Saturday Night Dead. Duck does his best, but he’s never had the same grasp of the aesthetic that you do.”

Aubrey lit up with a shaky smile that both warmed and stabbed at Ned’s heart. “Sounds awesome.”

“Say, uh, Aubrey. Remind me. How old are you?”

“Uh, twenty eight?”

“Phew. Thank God.”

“Why, what do you care?”

“Oh, uh …” Ned pointed vaguely at the pile of DVDs he was looking through. “I was just thinking, when I saw this in theatres, were you even born yet? And you were. So I’m not that old after all. Thank God.”

“No, you totally still are, but it’s OK. Is there popcorn?”

“Probably. Check the kitchen.”

Aubrey scampered off, and Ned began hurriedly combing through the pile for something from the early nineties. There was the sound of a door opening, some determined rustling, a quiet “Aha!” and then a very loud _BANG!_

Ned’s DVDs went flying out of his hands and Duck yelped “What the hell?!”

Aubrey emerged from the kitchen with a fully inflated bag of microwave popcorn in her hands. “It’s ready! You’re welcome.”

“Goddammit, Aubrey. Microwaves were invented for a reason, you know?”

“In all fairness,” said Ned “I somehow doubt that reason was ‘because magic can be startlingly loud’.”

Duck muttered something that Aubrey apparently chose to interpret as him conceding the argument, because she looked almost cheerful as she settled into the corner of the couch.

Once the movie started playing, Aubrey and Ned quickly abandoned the pretence of good spirits. She quietened and tucked her legs up under herself, he let the smile fade away from his face, and they both gravitated toward Duck, cuddling up to him from either side as if he were a shared teddy bear. Duck tolerated their clinging with the patience of a saint – or perhaps, Ned mused, he needed the affection too. They’d all been badly shaken by the day’s events.

Aubrey’s hair brushed against Ned’s fingers as she leaned her head on Duck’s shoulder, and he swallowed hard around the sudden lump in his throat. He tentatively petted the colourful curls, and felt more of a thief than he had in years when she didn’t move away. The unthinking trust and careless closeness from someone he’d wronged so badly … It was horrible. Torturous. A soothing balm to his soul.


	2. Chapter 2

A sense of dread weighed more and more heavily on Ned’s shoulders as he hurried up to Duck’s door. He wanted to believe it was just leftover adrenaline after finding that note in his looted sanctuary, but … his instincts were screaming that something was wrong.

The door opened at his touch, unlocked, and that wasn’t, _in and of itself_ , a danger sign, but –

There was a gaping hole in the living room wall, and –

Duck was lying motionless on the floor, and –

Ned clutched at the door frame to support himself, trying not to pass out.

The thoughts that ran through his head were _Duck!_ , then _Mosche?!_ , then _But he’s not – he’s just a thief, he doesn’t –_ but no, he couldn’t even finish that thought, because it wasn’t true. A thief, yes, but not _just_ a thief, and Mosche had never shared Ned’s qualms about hurting people. Violence wasn’t his preferred modus operandi but he wouldn’t hesitate to use it in pursuit of his primary goal, and right now, that goal was vengeance against Ned.

“Ned?” Leo Tarkesian, for some reason, was now standing in front of him. “This isn’t the best time –”

“What. Happened?”

“That’s, uh, kind of a long story, but you don’t need to worry about –”

“Duck. Is he OK?”

“He’s perfectly fine –”

“ _Bullshit!_ ”

“He’s not sick, injured or in any danger,” Leo amended.

That struck Ned as suspiciously specific, but since ‘injured’ and ‘in danger’ were currently his main concerns, he was willing to let it go.

“I gotta talk to him.”

Leo was still blocking his path. “Like I said, it’s really not a good time. Maybe come back tomorrow, all right?”

Ned stared incredulously at him. “You don’t get to kick me out. In the grand hierarchy of people who have a right to be here, _neighbour_ ranks below _boyfriend_.”

Leo pinched his nose and sighed. “You – you do realise I’ve known you both a long time, right? I’m not gonna fall for that.”

Ned bit back a growl of frustration. For _fuck’s sake_. Over the past six months it had become increasingly clear that everyone in this fucking town was either convinced he and Duck had been in a relationship for the past decade or completely unaware of the fact that they were in one now. Evidently, Leo was part of the latter camp. And … Ned got it, he truly did. Outwardly, not a great deal had changed between the two of them – he’d always been loudly and unabashedly affectionate with his friends, and Duck was a taciturn soul. Since he outright refused to let Ned say anything to clarify the situation on Saturday Night Dead, correcting people one-on-one like this was hardly an uncommon occurrence. And, to be absolutely fair to Leo, Ned _was_ the kind of person who would claim to be anyone’s lover, brother, father, business partner or attorney if he thought it might get him something he wanted. But _still._

Before Ned could even decide what to say to that, someone beat him to it.

“Ned _knows._ Monsters, Chosen One, talking sword, all of it. And he is my boyfriend.”

The sound of Duck’s voice, flat, exhausted and muffled against the floor though it may be, was like sweetest ambrosia. And he was talking about _magic_ , not robbery. Whatever was happening here had nothing to do with Ned’s past at all. The crushing weight of fear lifted, and Ned could breathe again as he walked over to him. Duck seemed to have used up his available words for the time being, but a hand reached out from the sad croissant shape in lieu of a verbal greeting, and Ned crouched down to clasp it between both his own.

“Hey,” he said softly, before returning his attention to Leo. “Since when do _you_ know about all that?”

“That’s part of the long story. Uh. Where to start. Do you know about Minerva?”

“The invisible blue lady who shows up at six fourteen every evening to offer swordfighting tutelage and wax poetic about destiny?”

“Yeah, that’s her,” said Leo, fond and melancholy. “Well, she’s not gonna be showing up like that any more.” The explanation that followed was a bizarre story of other planets, far off wars, and wormholes in his and Duck’s brains (?!) that gave them superpowers and had now been forcibly closed. “He’s … taking it kind of hard.”

“OK, well, that explains … some of this. And why is there a hole smashed in the wall?”

“That was, uh, my bad. I was coming in with my sword and -”

“You _came at him with a sword?_ ”

“It wasn’t like – He had a sword too! I thought he’d block me!”

“He _didn’t block you?!_ ”

Leo looked genuinely abashed and so, with a great effort of will, Ned stopped himself there.

“All right, well. Water under the bridge. Thank you, Leo, but I believe I’ve got this from here.”

Ned was braced for another argument but Leo seemed, if anything, almost insultingly relieved. “I’ll let myself out. Feel better, Duck; you know where I am if you need anything.”

“So,” Ned said after the door clicked shut. “How are you doing?”

“’M fine.”

“That is most definitely the worst lie you’ve ever told.”

Duck didn’t respond right away, and Ned took advantage of the pause in conversation to get situated more comfortably, sitting back against the wall with his legs out in front of him. With some insistent nudges, he coaxed Duck into uncurling enough to lay with his head in his lap, and began rubbing slow, soothing circles on his shoulder.

“It feels like … like the worst flu of my life hitting me all at once,” said Duck at last. “My whole body’s heavy, everything hurts, I’m so tired. I guess this is what being normal feels like? I hate it. I spent half my fucking life pretending I was just a regular guy so hard I nearly believed it, and then when I finally stop lying to myself, I get what I wanted: I’m not special.” He made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. “And hey, bonus, it turns out I _never was!_ ”

“What do you mean never were?” asked Ned. It felt like a marginally more useful contribution than _You’re special to me_ – sincere though the sentiment was, in this moment he couldn’t imagine it coming across as anything but a patronising platitude.

“The great, amazing destiny I spent twenty years running away from was never anything to do with me at all. I wasn’t the Chosen One, just the latest guy to get peer-pressured into covering a shift. Which I didn’t even do.”

“My dear, I distinctly remember you defeating an abomination mere hours ago. You _are_ doing it, even if it took you a while to get here.”

“Probably would’ve been better if I hadn’t. Then it wouldn’t matter so much that I lost all these abilities. But I’m _committed_ now. I have to fight abominations and protect people and – how am I supposed to do that like _this?_ I’m just a regular guy, I’m gonna get my ass killed!”

Ned kept petting him and hummed a non-committal, hopefully soothing “Mmm” noise. He was trying to sympathise; it was just a little difficult when the predicament Duck found so horrifying had been Ned’s reality this whole time.

“Wait. Shit. I don’t mean – I know that’s what you do. And it’s really brave and _really_ stupid of you, sometimes I don’t even know how the hell you do it – I’m glad you do though –”

“No offence was taken, Duck,” Ned said, taking pity on him. “It’s OK. Carry on.”

“But. It’s different when it’s you. Because you’ve _always_ been normal, you’re used to it. You know where your limits are, but I found out just the other day that I don’t have a fucking clue. If I ask you to do something too crazy, you can tell me to fuck off – you would, right?” He twisted his head around to peer anxiously up at Ned.

“Well, sure. We have met, haven’t we? Ned ‘Self-Preservation’ Chicane, that’s me.”

Duck exhaled heavily, and settled back down. It clearly was not a sigh of disappointment in his lack of heroic courage, and the sincerity of Duck’s relief made something warm unfurl inside Ned’s chest.

“But,” Duck continued “if I’m in the middle of a fight and come up with some stupid, fatally dangerous plan for myself, odds are I won’t even realise what’s wrong with it. I’ve spent six months trying to learn to trust my instincts, but my instincts think I’m invulnerable and I’m _not_ anymore, and … it’s scary.”

Ned closed his eyes against the sudden, nigh-overwhelming urge to wrap Duck in blankets and bubblewrap and lock him up in a safe where nothing could ever touch him. It wasn’t helpful. Duck was a hero, and even though this longing to protect and nurture him was far from new, leaning into that feeling too hard right now would communicate something like ‘you _are_ lesser now; this _does_ change everything’.

“It is,” said Ned. “But we’ll figure it out. We’ve got some time; another two months or so before the next bom-bom comes through. You’ll have had plenty of practice being a regular guy by then. And Aubrey and I’ll always have your back. Nobody’s going to get themself killed, OK? It’s not happening.”

Duck’s head made a minute movement that may have been a nod. Good enough. They stayed in peaceable silence for some time until Ned, aware of the effect this position was having on the circulation to his legs, broached the suggestion of moving.

“Nope.”

“Duck.”

“Just gonna stay here ‘til stuff starts making sense.”

Ned sighed with theatrical fondness and exasperation. “ _Duck_. Take the word of a man with more than five minutes experience of ordinary, forty-ish human bodies. However lousy you feel now, I guarantee you that it will get worse in direct proportion to the amount of time you spend lying on the floor like this. Lying down until the world makes sense again is a fine plan, but for both our sake’s, do it in your _bed_.”

Duck appeared to think this over. “Will you come an’ lay down with me?” he mumbled.

It was barely evening, and certainly too early to go to bed, but on the other hand, what else was Ned going to do? Go home to tidy up his ransacked sanctuary while startling at every sound, or stay here holding the man he loved in his hour of need. Such a difficult choice.

“Ah, you drive a hard bargain,” he said, feigning ruefulness. “Yes, of course.”

Once upright, Duck dodged Ned’s attempt at a kiss. “I threw up before,” he explained into the collar of Ned’s shirt.

“Oh. Is that related to the flu-like symptoms?”

“It’s related to Leo punching me in the gut.”

“He _what?_ ”

“Don’t be mad at him, I was asking for it.”

“Oh, well, that excuses it!” Ned snapped.

“No, like, I was literally asking him to punch me.”

“… _Why?_ ”

“To prove my powers were gone.”

Which the two of them had definitely already known at that point. For the love of God, wasn’t Duck usually considered the _sensible_ one in their group?

Ned sighed loudly, and pressed a kiss to Duck’s hair instead. “All right,” he said, steering him to the bathroom. “We go brush your teeth, then lie down and cuddle, and maybe you’ll be making better choices by the time we get up.”

“I should get my old skateboard out of the cupboard. Probably gonna need it.”

“… We can talk about that in the morning.”

Ned pushed Duck’s toothbrush into his hand, and turned on the shower to rinse out the tub.

Duck didn’t elaborate on why he thought he needed a skateboard. Didn’t say much of anything, in fact, for quite a while. But eventually, when they’d been curled up together for long enough Ned was starting to wonder if Duck had fallen asleep, a very quiet voice said:

“I wasn’t gonna let any of that destiny bullshit define me. But now it’s gone, it’s … all the most important things in my life were wrapped up in it one way or another.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. What about your forest rangering?”

“You know the time that bear knocked me down? It didn’t even hurt. I didn’t think too hard about it back then, but like, would a normal person have broken ribs or some shit if a bear stood on their chest?”

It sounded like a genuine question, which was unfortunate, because Ned honestly had no idea. He’d always just taken that story at face value. Was it actually plausible, or had it simply seemed so thanks to Duck‘s honest face and matter-of-fact delivery? “Don’t ask _me_. I take your word as gospel on wildlife related matters, I don’t know what’s supposed to happen when a bear steps on someone. It didn’t sound impossible? That’s all I got.”

“I also fell off a cliff once.”

Ned’s only response was some shocked spluttering.

“Yeah, see, that’s exactly how all the other rangers reacted! I was just like ‘well, it was a _little_ cliff’ so they’d stop staring at me like that, but it wasn’t. I figured they were just being dramatic. Now I’m, uh, starting to think that maybe wasn’t the kind of fall you’re supposed to walk away from like nothing happened.”

“You gotta be more careful around cliffs now!”

“Yeah, Ned, I’m planning on it.”

“OK. Well, I suppose I see your point about the forest rangering and the destiny, but there are other things. There’s … us, for instance.” The following pause seemed to stretch out for hours, and Ned felt like a fool. How presumptuous, to label _himself_ as one of Duck’s most important things. He forced a light chuckle. “Not so important, I’ll grant you, but at least it’s something of your own.”

“No, it’s not that.” Duck squeezed his hand in reassurance. “This is important. It’s definitely tangled up with the destiny stuff though.”

“How do you figure? I guess there’s the inherent romance of sharing a terrifying experience, but other than that …”

Duck sighed as if _Ned_ was the one being confusing. “We’d been friends for ten years. And it was fine, it was good. You were important to me then too. But it was only when I finally stopped avoiding the destiny stuff that things changed.”

Ned tightened his arms, holding Duck even closer against his chest. “You dumbass,” he said into the junction of his neck and jaw, pressing his lips there briefly to soften the insult. “Things changed between us because you _asked_. That’s it, that was the only difference that mattered. You could’ve done that any time and I’d’ve answered the same way.”

“… Oh.” Duck ‘s voice cracked on that single, shaky syllable, then abruptly, he was throwing off Ned’s grip and turning around so they were face to face. He kissed him with surprising vigour considering how flat he’d been all evening. “That’s. Really good to know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to [TrueColours](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueColours/pseuds/TrueColours) who came up with the incident in Duck's backstory with the bear (you can read all about it in [Poacher Turned Gamekeeper](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13719399)) and sparked the idea for lots of little details in this chapter


	3. Chapter 3

“So this is the new car?” Duck looked it over dubiously, which Ned thought was a bit rich coming from someone whose primary mode of transportation was a twenty-year-old skateboard. “It’s … something, all right.”

“Oh, ye of little faith! I have great plans for this baby, you’ll see. I can get Kirby to change Crepes by Monica to Crypto-nomica, it’ll be free advertising wherever I go, and look how much space there is in the back for – NO! God damn it, enough is enough!”

Duck, who hadn’t been doing anything other than listening indulgently, appeared understandably baffled by this outburst. But the thing was, Ned knew himself well enough see where this conversation was headed. He’d show Duck the van, tell him all about the many ideas he had to transform it into a mobile monster-hunting hub, and then, oh, it’d suddenly be too late to mention the incident at the car yard, it’d seem suspicious that he hadn’t said anything straight away, better just wait for another opportunity to arise organically in conversation and then evade that too. It had been working out great for him so far … or, well, not exactly _great_ , pretty terribly in all honesty … but being stalked and blackmailed was on a new level of urgency.

“Sit down. Forget the van, we’ve got more important things to worry about. While I was shopping I had a very disturbing encounter with a former partner of mine.”

“OK,” said Duck. “So … your ex is in town? Sure, we can talk about that. Did you, like, want me to meet him, or …”

“Good Lord, no!” Ned exclaimed, horrified. As if ‘Duck Newton and Boyd Mosche crossing paths’ wasn’t right up there on the list of Ned’s worst nightmares (second only to ‘Aubrey Little and Boyd Mosche crossing paths’). “That’s not the kind of … when I say partner, I mean partner in crime. And I’m not being whimsical; we stole stuff together.”

(Duck already knew that part, Ned tried to remind his racing heart. He was aware, at least in vague terms, of the kind of things Ned had gotten up to before they met. He’d heard Ned’s stories, seen his treasures, watched Ned pick a few locks and once even hotwire a car. But this was the first time they’d actually, seriously _talked_ about it with no element of performance or plausible deniability, and it was terrifying.)

“We had a falling out ten years ago and parted ways. I came to Kepler, and he went to prison. He’s out now, apparently.”

“And then today he was just there, out of nowhere?”

“Not exactly out of _nowhere_. It was the first time I saw him since back in the day, but I’ve known he was in town for a little while now. Ever since … _hnng._ Since he broke into the Crypto-nomica, stole a bunch of my stuff, and left me a note.”

“ _What?!_ ” Duck demanded. “He … You … When did this happen? And why the _fuck_ didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to!”

“But you didn’t though.”

“I was going to! Right after it happened, I went straight to you, but … this was the day Minerva left.”

“Oh,” Duck said, and deflated a little. “Yeah, I guess that’s fair. Can’t really blame you for not telling me then, I definitely would not have handled it well. You still could’ve said something the next day or – no, actually, I was basically useless for like three days after. Maybe this is a semi-reasonable time frame to bring it up. But what happened today?”

“He says he wants to head back to England and start a new life, and he wants me to fund it for him because of this bullshit idea he has that what’s happened to him is my fault. There’s this sculpture he’s tracked down in Kepler, and he says the only way he’ll give my stuff back and get out of my life is if I steal it for him. He showed me pictures, and … it’s in the Lodge. It belongs to Mama. And I have no idea what to do next.”

“Well,” Duck said “I mean … isn’t it kind of obvious?”

“ _Obvious_?” Despite himself, Ned was intrigued. For all the world at large extolled the wonders of talking to loved ones about your problems, it seemed too much to hope for that Duck might actually see a solution to this mess that Ned had somehow missed. “No, no it’s not. What are you thinking?”

“You have to go to Mama.”

God damn it. Should’ve known it’d be something ridiculous.

“No, no, I can’t do that!”

“Why not? Don’t you think she ought to know someone’s out there trying to steal her shit?”

“Not if that someone’s _me_!”

“You? I’m talking about him. Once he realises you’re not gonna do it … Ned? You’re not, right?”

“I certainly don’t want to.”

“Good, then don’t!”

“It’s not as simple as that.”

“Seems pretty simple to me. You don’t wanna rob her, Mama doesn’t wanna be robbed, so tell her what’s happening and we can all figure this out together.”

“No, listen, I … I don’t want to do this to Mama. But I might have to, and if I tell her, that option goes away.”

“What do you mean _have to_? Is getting your stuff back really that important?”

“I don’t care about the stuff!” Ned snapped, then hesitated. “No, well, of course I _care_ about the stuff, but it’s not important. Well, one piece is important. But the _point_ isn’t getting it all back, the point is the part where if I do this he’ll fuck off out of my life forever. Because when a dangerous criminal who knows all your darkest secrets and has already proved he can get in your house is convinced you owe him something, you kind of do have to do what he says!”

“No,” Duck said, with a firm, quiet assurance that was either comforting or deeply annoying. “You’ve got options besides just giving him everything he wants or letting him to whatever he wants to you.”

“Like what?”

“Like … I dunno, trick him somehow? You’ve seen pictures of this sculpture and we’ve got a magical cat friend who makes stuff, maybe he could do you a duplicate?”

“ _Fuck!_ ” Ned half-shouted. “We _do_ have a … and I wasted my chance on this stupid gun! Do you think he’d let me change my mind?”

“You could ask. Aubrey can get across the border whenever, she’d take you to see him if you wanted.”

“No,” Ned said. And not just because of Aubrey, though that certainly didn’t help. “It wouldn’t work. The payment is for the magic he uses to create these things for us, not the actual things. The gun’s already made, I can’t return it for store credit. If I brought him something from the latest list he gave us … but I don’t know where to find any of that crap, we usually don’t even figure out what it means until we’re in the middle of a hunt …”

“It was just one idea,” said Duck. “Not the _only_ other option.”

“What else is there?”

“I don’t know, exactly. Talk to Mama and find out!”

“Yeah, that’d go over real well. She already doesn’t trust me, this’d just be all the more reason.”

“That’s not true. Maybe it was at the beginning, but we’ve all been through a lot together since then. Mama’s a friend. I reckon you’ve earned more credit with her than you think.” Ned had barely even begun processing that when Duck added “Aubrey too. Even more so.”

“Wh – what? Who said anything about Aubrey?”

“You didn’t _say_ anything, but come on, Ned. I’m not an idiot. I see how you look at her.”

“How do I look at her?” Ned croaked, heart in his throat.

“Like you don’t know whether you want to cry, throw up, hug her to death or run screaming,” Duck answered with discomfiting accuracy. “Kind of like how she looked at me, and how I felt when I looked at you, after that thing with the sign hitting Leo’s store. But she and I got over it, and you haven’t yet. I may not know what she’s got to do with whatever it is that’s been tearing you up lately, but there’s obviously something. And you’re scared to talk to any of us about it, but you shouldn’t be. We’re a team. Nothing you say is gonna change that.”

“Oh, you think so, huh?” Ned muttered. Confessing to literal crimes in order to prove someone wrong would be an extremely stupid thing to do. He was probably about to do it. There was a sense of inevitably to this conversation, like he’d already passed the point of no return without realising it.

And so, almost choking on the words that felt like hot ashes in his mouth, he told Duck everything.

“ _Jesus Christ, Ned!_ ”

There it was. Exactly what he’d been dreading. Ned couldn’t bring himself to look at Duck and see that horror and condemnation in his face.

“What was it you were saying about how this wouldn’t change anything?”

Duck took a deep, ragged breath. “Yeah, I … may have overstated that.”

There was no satisfaction at all in being proven right. Ned was staring at the ground, trying to will away the dull burn in his eyes, when Duck’s hand hesitantly came to rest on top of his.

“I can’t say this doesn’t change things. But … it doesn’t change everything. Ten years of friendship. Six months of saving each other’s lives on a regular basis. However long I’ve spent loving you. It doesn’t change that.”

Something vast and bittersweet swept over Ned like a blessing. Duck would hold on to the good memories, keep them untainted.

“Thank you,” Ned said, finally looking up at him. “That means a great deal. And I don’t suppose it matters much anymore, but for whatever it’s worth, I love you too.”

“It matters,” Duck said. “Why wouldn’t … You’re talking like we’re breaking up.”

“Are we not?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, I don’t want to. It’s bad, but like, in the way where we’re gonna have a bunch of shitty, uncomfortable conversations about feelings and expectations and stuff, not the way where I’d never want to see you again.”

Ned could only stare at him in confusion. The concepts of ‘Duck finds out the truth’ and ‘I lose him forever’ had become so intertwined in his mind that this outcome had never even registered as a possibility.

“Did you seriously think that was where this was going?”

The look on Ned’s face must have answered for him.

“And I thought _I_ was the emotional illiterate in this relationship. Fuck. OK. I’m sure as hell not happy about this but, well, neither are you. You’ve been trying to be better than you were that night the whole time I’ve known you, and you _have_ been better. People are more than just the worst thing they’ve done – hell, look at Minerva, she – never mind. Point is, I don’t hate you and I’m not leaving you. But you gotta talk to Aubrey or I’ll kick your ass."

Even though that last bit was not in any way surprising, Ned couldn’t help wincing a little.

“I also think you should talk to Mama about the sculpture thing, but it’s your call. You _have_ to tell Aubrey, though.”

“She’ll never forgive me,” Ned said quietly.

“She might not. But that’s a separate issue. She’s got a right to know, whether she forgives you or not. Plus, keeping this from her now that you know is a whole extra thing that needs forgiving, and the longer you wait the worse it’ll be.”

“Yeah.” Ned sighed. Duck was looking at him expectantly. They both knew from experience that Ned would always, _always_ break first in this kind of waiting game; his willpower even at its strongest was no match for Duck’s infinite depths of patience and stubbornness. “Fine. Fuck it. Get in the van.”

When they parked in front of the Lodge, Aubrey came jogging out to meet them. “Hi Duck! Hi Ned! Have you brought me crepes?”

“I have not,” Ned replied.

“Aww. False advertising; not cool. Maybe Barclay will make crepes if I ask him, I kind of want some now. Is this your new car? What non-crepe stuff are you gonna put in it?”

She headed over to the van to take a closer look, but Ned intercepted her.

“In a while,” he said, steering her back toward the front entrance. “I’m afraid this isn’t exactly a social visit. We need to talk. Just you and me, that is. Then maybe the rest of the Pine Guard later.”

“Oh, uh, OK,” said Aubrey as they stepped back inside. Dani and Jake glanced curiously up at them from the couch. “We can go up to my room. Duck, do you wanna play for me in Uno?”

“Sure,” Duck said. He hesitated a moment, looking back and forth between the two of them then turning to Aubrey. “Don’t … wait, no, that’s … fuck.” He abruptly pulled her into a hug.

Aubrey returned the embrace immediately, but looked deeply confused. She caught Ned’s eye over Duck’s shoulder and mouthed _‘Huh?’._

“Just try and remember I want him back in one piece,” Duck said, then let her go and went to pick up the discarded hand of cards.

Dr Harris Bonkers came hopping up to greet them when Aubrey opened the door to her room, and she crouched down to rub him between the ears and let him lick her hand before seating herself on the bed and waving Ned towards the desk chair.

“What’s going on, Ned? It’s kind of scary how serious you look right now.”

“Right. So. Aubrey. You know that I once made my living as a thief …”

“Mmm, yeah, you may have mentioned that once or twice.”

“I talk about it a lot, I know. But there are some parts I never talk about, because they’re not funny or exciting, just horrible. I need to tell you one of those stories now. About why I left that life.”

“OK,” said Aubrey. “Go ahead. You can tell me.”

There was a kind of gentle curiosity in her voice, inviting him to unburden himself, like a more sincere version of the grief counsellor persona she’d assumed at the Hornet’s Nest. _She_ was prepared to comfort _him_. Because Aubrey was a wonderful, loyal, compassionate person whose friendship was worth more than anything he’d ever stolen. And now he had to destroy it.

“This was about ten years ago,” Ned began. “A friend asked me to join him on a burglary job. It was supposed to be simple. No-one would be home, we’d just disable the security system and be in and out like ghosts. I’m not sure if the owners’ plans changed or if he lied about it being an empty house to get me on board, but either way, someone caught me in the act as I was filling a bag of loot. And while I was trying to convince him to lay low and not raise the hue and cry, my partner knocked him out. I wanted to cut our losses and run, but my partner insisted we finish the job and, well, I didn’t argue all that hard. We were grabbing a bunch of stuff when I heard a noise, and when I went to look … there was a girl, running towards the body of the man from before.”

Aubrey gasped at that; a sharp, shaky little sound. Ned could tell that it was a ‘this reminds me of a traumatic experience’ reaction, not ‘you are literally describing something that happened to me’, and began speaking faster, hoping to finish before those pieces clicked into place.

“She saw me, she screamed, my partner heard and came running. He was heading straight for her and I was afraid he might actually kill her, I had a heavy bag in my hands, and I swung. I was aiming for him, trying to stop him, but I hit her, and she went down. And then she started levitating, her eyes glowed orange, I blacked out and when I came to, the place was on fire.”

“Ned …” Aubrey had definitely caught on now. Her voice was thick with emotion, rage or distress or some mixture of the two, and her eyes flashed. It might have been tiny sparks of actual fire or simply the sunlight from the window glinting off unshed tears, and Ned honestly couldn’t say which option he dreaded more.

“You have to understand, Aubrey, for years, I thought I’d been hallucinating from head trauma or smoke inhalation or _something_. I thought it couldn’t have really happened that way right up until last week, when we were in hospital. I overheard you talking to Mama, and that was when I realised it was _you_ , and it was _real._ ”

“It was you,” Aubrey repeated in a whisper. “It was _you_.”

“It was me,” Ned said. “And I am so, so sorry, Aubrey. Not just because it was you, and I care so very much for you; because I did it at _all_ , to _anyone_. I’ve hated myself for it ever since, it was a turning point in my life –”

“My mother died that night.”

“I know. That is, I know that _now_. Back then I knew there was a possibility there was someone else in there, but –”

“My father and I could have died too.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt, but they did, and it was my fault.”

Aubrey shook her head. “No, that’s not what I – I’ve done a lot of therapy, and it was really hard, but I accepted that there’s a whole giant web of causality when things like this happen and her death wasn’t anyone’s fault. Not mine. Not yours either. But I always wondered why dad and I survived and she didn’t. I told myself it was unknowable, one of those things I’d never understand, but … you were there, Ned. Why did I get out alive?”

“Well, uh, I’d have to say that is indeed unknowable in a philosophical –”

“Fuck philosophy!” Aubrey snarled. “In a _literal sense_! Why did we survive? Why didn’t she?”

“Because I pulled you out onto the lawn before I ran. And because I didn’t go back for her.”

Aubrey crumpled. “I thought it was my powers,” she said. “I always kind of knew, deep down, that the fire was mine. It was like, was that why it destroyed the house but not me? And dad – I saw him on the ground when I came downstairs, bleeding, I was so scared for him and when we both woke up on the lawn I wondered if I saved him somehow and – didn’t think or wasn’t strong enough to save mom. But it was nothing to do with that. Not magic. Just you.” She made a strangled sound somewhere between a whimper and a howl. “I have _no idea_ what to do with that.”

Dr Harris Bonkers pushed his face into her hand. Aubrey bent in half, laying down next to the rabbit, holding him against her chest and wrapping herself around him as best she could. Ned had never been so grateful for the good doctor’s presence.

“There is one more thing,” he said.

Aubrey groaned, the sound muffled against Dr Harris Bonkers’ furry side. “Oh my God, what now?”

“The pendant you were describing to Mama …”

“The Flamebright Pendant?” She lifted her head enough to look at him. “Ned, do you have that?”

“No,” Ned answered, and her face fell. “I did steal it. But I don’t have it anymore.”

“Are you _fucking_ _kidding_ _me?!_ ”

In retrospect, that was perhaps the worst way he could have possibly conveyed that information. A perfect one-two punch.

“Sorry. It was stolen from me a short while ago, but I know who has it and what he wants, so -”

“Stop,” Aubrey said, and Ned stopped. “This is a lot, and – unless there’s something else, which _there better fucking not be_ because I will be _so pissed_ if it turns out there was _more_ and you _didn’t tell me –_ ”

“The person who took it is my former partner, who was with me during the robbery. That really is the last of it, I’m pretty sure.”

“Then I’m done having this conversation with you. I can’t – I just – I need _Dani_.”

“I’ll get her,” Ned promised. He was secretly, shamefully relieved. He would have stayed if she’d wanted him to, kept talking for as long as she needed, but he too wanted this conversation to end in much the same way as a drowning man wants to take a breath. “And when you’re ready, we’ll sit down with Duck, Mama and Barclay and figure out how to get your pendant back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go. They have Actually Talked To Each Other. I don't know what happens next, but in my heart it leads to a less tragic ending for Ned.
> 
> I hope I did justice to the confrontation between Ned and Aubrey.


End file.
